


carved out on the edge

by santanico



Series: blow it all away [2]
Category: McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF, Polygon (YouTube) RPF
Genre: Background Relationships, Bondage, F/M, Gags, Insults, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Restraints, Scratching, Sex Crying, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Woman on Top, background threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: The thing about Nick is he doesn’t understand subtlety. Maybe it’s men in general, she thinks, but Nick in particular thinks he’s being subtle, or vague, but he’s like an alarm - every time he opens his mouth, his words are like a siren offuck me fuck me fuck me- and it can be exhausting.





	carved out on the edge

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't like a sequel but i guess it follows the same lines as trial/error/solution  
> anyway hell is real

He texts her, a week before he’s scheduled to visit.

Nick R.  
_hey can i crash at yrs polygon won’t foot my entire hotel bill 4 three nights and money’s tight_

Simone doesn’t want to admit how pleasant a surprise it is - she hasn’t seen Nick in a month, their schedules have been hectic as hell, and they haven’t had much a chance to talk one-on-one, either. It’s fine - they don’t function in such a way that requires constant attention - but she’s already pondering the ways they can spend their downtime together. They’ll have the same schedule, at least until Wednesday.

Simone  
_when do you fly in?_

Nick R.  
_sunday nite why. I can just take a cab to ur place_

Simone  
_what time. I can pick u up._

Nick R.  
_:)  
Im supposed to land at ten. suxxxxxxx_

Simone  
_ok text me when u do and we’ll figure shit out. U can sleep on my couch haha_

Nick R.  
_thx dude it means a lot_

Simone doesn’t think about it much until that weekend. She cleans her apartment and says to herself it’s not because Nick’s going to be here. She doesn’t clean when Pat comes over, and last time he had they’d fucked on the couch after work and they’d kind of stained one side of one of the cushions and she hasn’t cleaned it yet, just flipped it over after rubbing at it with a wet washcloth. Or rather, Pat had done that, as a courtesy.

Her apartment’s small, but not uncomfortably so. The kitchen is big enough for two people to eat in, and there’s a living room space, a bedroom, a bathroom. It’s tight but for a one bedroom in New York, she really can’t complain. She and Pat had talked once about possibly moving in together but even with work, their sleep schedules and priorities outside of what they _did_ together - it was too different. And Pat’s heart was set on location, and so was Simone’s. So they made do, and just frequented each other’s apartments every week or so to blow off steam.

She’s proud of the work she’s done as she heads downstairs to do laundry. In-suite laundry - another rare plus of this building. Weird neighbors aside, she was doing pretty well for herself.

Nick texts her on Sunday.

Nick R.  
_taking off. Miss ya see ya soon_

She doesn’t answer; not out of any spite but because she doesn’t know what to say. Nick’s sweet sometimes, and she loves that about him, but she wants to play it like it doesn’t affect her at all. At least for now. At least until he’s here.

Nick R.  
_landed at laguardia. Gonna be a bit the plane is packed but i dont have any baggage so just pick me up ok_

Simone  
_omw what did u fly_

Nick R.  
_southwest lmao at least polygon covered this_

He’s standing outside when she pulls up to the curb. The airport’s huge and busy because it always is but they manage to pull out faster than she pulled in.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says as Nick climbs into the passenger seat. He looks at her, smiles.

“No problem. Can I shower when we get home?”

“Yeah, of course.” It’s weird, the way he says it - _home_ \- but she chooses not to overthink that, either. Traffic’s bad but they don’t make much small talk. She asks him about his flight and he shrugs. He asks if she’s talked to Pat and she shrugs. “Not since Friday.”

“Oh,” Nick says. “I thought you’d…” He trails off, leaves it hanging.

“Hey,” Simone says. “Don’t let it get to you.”

Nick fidgets but that’s just what he’s like, she thinks, trying to pay attention to not getting run into by a tourist’s bus.

“California still the same?”

Nick leans his head back. “Guess so,” he says, runs a hand through his hair. “You likin’ New York?”

“Of course. But it’s -”

“Fucking hot,” Nick finishes. She shoots him a look and he bites his lip. “Sorry.”

“It’s fucking hot,” Simone says, settles back into her seat. “We’re almost there.”

“Got it,” Nick says. He’s facing the window, staring at the people on the sidewalk. “New York’s trippy.”

“Sure,” Simone says, shrugging. “I dunno. There’s probably like, a little less tripping here than in San Fran, right?”

“A little less,” Nick agrees, absently. It’s a curve ball, the way Simone’s suddenly hit with the urge to know exactly what he’s thinking, to dig into his brain, to get under that persona and watch it fall apart. She grips the steering wheel a little too hard and takes a sharp right. Nick jostles a little but doesn’t say anything. He’s probably used to worse.

“I hate driving in the city.”

“Sorry?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, laughs even though there’s nothing particularly funny. “Hey. Here we are.”

-

Nick drops his bag in the hallway and immediately beelines to Simone’s bathroom. She sighs, digging into her fridge. She has a few beers in there - bottled, stuff that isn’t exactly cheap - but she pulls one out anyway, cracks it open, takes a sip. The weekend’s over, which kind of sucks, but Nick’s here, and they can take the subway to work together, and that’s nice, and they’ll see Pat together, which is nice in its own way. Simone wonders if it’ll be weird. It was weird at first, at E3.

But worth it, she decides, leaning on the kitchen counter and drinking the beer.

Nick’s voice - “Sorry, sorry, I’m not decent,” - gives her pause.

She laughs - not because it’s funny, but because Nick is so _rushed_. He’s got a towel around his hips and he’s bending to pick up his bag and ducking his face.

“Are you - you okay, buddy?” she says as he drags the bag back into the bathroom. “I’ve seen your dick, dude.”

“Shut up,” Nick calls, and she can hear that he’s laughing too - that’s a relief, at least. 

“You wanna beer?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Nick comes out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts, no socks, wet hair. She looks at him and for a moment wants to pinch herself - this idiot, who still gets embarrassed to be naked around her? It’s gotta be a joke. But it’s not - she loves it, she’s missed it.

She bites her tongue. “It’s in the fridge.”

Nick tilts his head at her, only half-smiling. He’s measuring her and she knows it, so she straightens her back, turns around to lean against the kitchen counter with her hips. “Okay,” he says after a beat, opening her refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle. “The stout?”

“Mhm,” she hums, and Nick closes the door and looks at her. “What?”

“Bottle opener?”

“In the drawer.”

He smiles at her again, faintly. He opens both of the drawers, the one right next to her and then the one next to _that_ one and pulls out the bottle opener from the second. “Couldn’t'a just told me which it was,” he says, but when she raises an eyebrow at him he doesn’t say anything else, just cracks the bottle open and takes a long slug. “Shit, that’s good.”

Simone holds out her bottle and he taps the bottom of his against hers. “Welcome to New York,” she says. “You tired.”

“Sure,” Nick says. He keeps carding his fingers through his hair. Nervous, fidgety habits. She sips her beer. She’s halfway done with it already. Nick’s drinking to catch up, glancing over at her. If he’s trying to be subtle, he’s doing a shit job about it. Simone drinks deeply from her bottle and pushes off the counter.

“If you’re tired, maybe you shouldn’t stay up too late,” she says.

Nick opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Then, after a few seconds of silence, he says, “Simone?”

“Yeah?”

“You...feeling okay?”

She grins at him. She means it, this time. She smiles and brushes her hair from her face and he’s looking at her, he’s really looking at her now. He’s poising himself to say or do whatever she wants to and no matter how often he gets like this, no matter how many times they play this song and dance, she never gets over it. Her heart’s hammering, constant pulse in her throat and her chest and her cunt but she’s not going to do anything about it, not now. 

“I’m doing great, Nick. But I do wanna call it an early night. I worked hard this weekend.”

Nick licks his lips. He takes a step closer to her. “Did you? I could help you unwind?”

Simone crosses her arms, keeps smiling at him. “That’s sweet,” she says, cocking her head at him. He blinks, bites his lip. He’s trying so hard. “But I’m okay. I’m gonna go to bed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning. You should get some sleep. I know jetlag is hell, but try not to let it keep you up tonight, okay? There’s blankets and extra pillows in the linen closet next to my bedroom.”

Now Nick’s mouth is agape, and he’s clinging to his bottle of beer like it’s keeping him on his feet. He shuts his mouth, as if realizing how rude he’s being, and nods. “Thanks. And thanks again...for letting me crash on your couch.”

She loves how he emphasizes every word. She just keeps smiling. “Anything for a friend,” she says, leaves her beer on the counter with just a slug left at the bottom. Nick’s eyes dart to it, then to his own. He sips again, as if remembering there’s still beer in the bottle.

“Good night,” she says, yawning and stretching her arms over her head.

“Night, Simone,” Nick says.

She shuts her door, locks it for good measure, and strips down to her panties. She lies on top of the sheets and looks at the ceiling as she presses her fingers against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Outside, she can hear Nick pulling a blanket, maybe a pillow or two, out of the linen closet. She rubs in little circles for a minute, enjoying the slow ease of it, her heart still pounding. She wonders if he knows. If he’s thinking that she’s doing this. If he’s assuming this is what she’s doing.

She slips a hand under and slides her fingers through the wetness. She thinks about what Nick would say - he’d be predictable, moan and tell her how wet she is, how good she feels, how he wants to sink his fingers or his cock or his tongue inside her. She slips a finger into her cunt and rocks down, sighs as she finds the right angle. She tugs her panties down her thighs and touches her clit with her left hand, slow strokes as she fucks another finger into herself. She thinks about Nick on the couch, lying in the dark - maybe he’s jerking off, feeling guilty about it because it’s Simone’s couch, she could come out any time and catch him. She fucks herself a little harder, gasps as she hits the right nerve. She rubs her clit faster. Nick and Pat, kissing. Nick on his knees, eating her out - that image turns to Nick on his knees, sucking on Pat’s cock. Nick when he goes totally quiet and still and focused and Nick when he’s begging, aching for her to touch him, whining to touch her, telling her how much he loves how she tastes and looks.

She hits the edge unexpectedly, clenches hard around her fingers and lets out a small, choked gasp as she does so. Curling her toes she fucks herself through it - the sweetness, the tiny waves that vibrate through her body until it’s just her skin, twitching and tense. She slides her fingers out and pushes her underwear all the way off, swings her legs out of bed. Nick’s still moving around. She can hear him getting water out of sink, or washing his hands. Something. She puts on a clean pair of underwear and leaves her room to pee.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Nick says. “I was gonna ask you where you kept your pots - I was gonna make some noodles. I’m - fucking starving.”

Simone blinks at him. She knows - just by virtue of being a human being - that she looks in disarray. Her hair’s a mess, she can feel it. Her face is flushed, whether the color is showing or not. Nick’s not looking her in the eye though, and she realizes she didn’t put a t-shirt on.

“God, it’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

He frowns at the wall.

She rolls her eyes, even though a part of her wishes he had the guts to grab her and pin her to her bedroom door and drop to his knees to eat her out right there.

“The pans are in the pantry. Get it. Pan-tree.”

Nick glances at her, keeps his eyes on her face. “Thank you.” He is holding a glass of water, and he turns around and rushes back into the kitchen.

 _Idiot_ is all she can think.

She pisses and combs out her hair. It isn’t too bad, thank god. Nick might not know.

The lights are all off when she gets out of the bathroom. On her bed, she sits awake, listening, but Nick’s quiet and she gives up after a few minutes, flicking the light off and settling into her pillow.

-

They eat cereal in silence the next morning.

Nick seems tired. He isn’t looking at her much, doesn’t try to make conversation. Not that she minds - he probably didn’t sleep well, but she isn’t ready to ask. She’s in a good enough mood. It’s Monday, but she gets to go to work with Nick, and have him around the office, and she’s already thinking, planning, knows she shouldn’t be but she can’t help it.

“We should get going,” she says as they finish breakfast. “You sleep okay?”

He looks at her, takes a long, drawn out breath. “Not particularly,” he says, not breaking his gaze. It’s unexpected for him to make consistent eye contact like this - she half-admires it, because he does look tired.

“What kept you up?”

Nick huffs a laugh. “Take a guess.”

She shrugs. “I don’t care that much, dude,” she says, and he drops his gaze. It’s like a victory, a swoop in her belly. It’s too early to be thinking about him like this but it’s been so long since she’s had him to herself.

“I got you a pass. For the subway.”

Nick hesitates. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, sort of quiet.

“No, but I did, to save us time. You can pay me back.” He glances up at her, swallows and nods. She grabs her bag from the back of the kitchen chair and rummages through it, hands him the card. “Onwards and forwards.”

-

Work is good, to its credit. They have a lot of meetings - that’s how it always is when a non-New Yorker is in the New York building - but Pat and Nick get to see each other, and they’re so warm when they’re together. Allegra and Ashley and Chelsea and Clayton all greet Nick with big hugs, lots of laughter. It adds a sense of fullness to the team that always seems to be just _better_ when someone who’s out of town is around. The day’s a blur, but it’s exciting, and it’s good, and Simone lets Nick lean on her shoulder on the subway ride home.

“You tired?” she says.

“A little.” He puts his chin on her shoulder. “Got any plans for tonight?”

She half-shrugs, lifting her right shoulder - he’s leaning on her left. “Nothing set in stone.”

Nick lets out a breath. “Well, let me know if anything’s gonna keep you from staying home.”

“You getting at something?” she says.

“Maybe,” Nick says.

“You can try it,” she says, and he half-shudders. “Or you can be patient.”

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the train ride.

The thing about Nick is he doesn’t understand subtlety. Maybe it’s men in general, she thinks, but Nick in particular thinks he’s being subtle, or vague, but he’s like an alarm - every time he opens his mouth, his words are like a siren of _fuck me fuck me fuck me_ \- and it can be exhausting.

To his credit, he doesn’t get too close to her when they walk from the station to her apartment. He hovers, but doesn’t touch. He waits until they’re in the apartment, until Simone’s set her bag down and locked the door.

“Simone,” he says, and his voice is just a touch too loud, and he brushes his fingers along her wrist and steps a little too close. 

“Hey,” she says. “Can a girl breathe?”

He blinks at her. That, too. The blinking. He knows he has sad eyes. She nudges him out of the way and steps around into the kitchen. He’s following her, rests his hand on the small of her back. She stops, lets him stay there for a minute, then turns around.

“Do you need something?”

“Yes,” he says, too quickly. She thinks, for a split second, if she pushed hard enough he’d drop to his knees and eat her right there. But she doesn’t want that.

“Well, can you put it on hold for a minute?”

“Simone,” he says, almost sharp.

“Nick. Shut up.”

He bites his lips and takes a small step back. Simone opens the fridge and scans its contents. There’s not a whole lot that wouldn’t require a lot of prep, and it’s already six and although she doesn’t want Nick to know it, she’s not in the mood to put this off for much longer.

She makes a sandwich. Turkey, cheese, lettuce. She slices a tomato in half, takes a slice from one half, looks at Nick. He’s still hovering, leaning on the counter, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You want one?”

“Not really,” he says, and again, his tone is curt, low and annoyed.

She stares at him. “You wanna chill out?”

He drops his head. She puts the half-loaf of bread back in the pantry, takes the first bite of her sandwich. “There’s plenty. If you’re hungry?”

He looks at her again, leans into her space. “I can wait. Do you just want me to wait? Tell me where. And how. And I’ll do it.” He thinks he’s appeasing her, that he’s letting her have what she wants, but she knows better. Nick’s pushing, trying to shove his way to the finish line without even letting her get started. Simone puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back, with just enough force that he stumbles.

“Are you not listening? Chill out.”

“Let me go down on you. Right now. Please. _Simone_. I need this.”

“No,” she says, crossing her legs at the ankle for good measure. “I told you what I told you.”

“But I -”

“Hey. Enough.”

He shuts up for just long enough for her to finish her sandwich. “You don’t want the tomato?” she says, holding out the untouched half. He looks at her with wide eyes and she just shakes her head. “Fine. Someone can’t take a joke.”

“Come _on_ , I know you wanna, let me fuck you, I promise I’ll do whatever you want…” She steps around him, heads towards her bedroom. He’s at her heels and she halfway considers coming to a halt just so he could crash into her but it’s not worth the way he’d glare at her and complain after the fact. She opens the door and Nick follows her inside, starts to drop to his knees but she grabs the sleeve of his t-shirt before he can.

“Get on the bed.”

Nick scrambles onto her bed, sits against the headboard with his legs spread, a hand hovering over his belt.

“Take off everything.”

Nick hesitates but then starts to strip, lifts his hips to pull off his jeans, stripping his socks along with it.

“Underwear, too,” she says. She watches, amused, as he spends a full minute struggling out of his button-up shirt and his boxers. He throws all of his clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor, which she eyes for a moment.

“What are you gonna do?” Nick says, his tone frantic. He’s half-hard already and Simone gazes at his cock for a few seconds before looking back at him. “Like what you see?”

He’s still pushing, must be wondering how far he can go when it’s just her. It’s true - without Pat to back her up, it’s different. Pat’s good at reining Nick in, keeping him satisfied. He wants to annoy her, to push her to her limits.

She shrugs. “Seen better,” she says, stonefaced. His eyes flutter shut and he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, strokes. “Really? You’re that fucking desperate?”

“Hell yeah,” Nick says, rubs his thumb along his cock. “Come on, you don’t wanna sit on me? Do _something_.”

“You gonna shut up?”

Nick is jerking his cock faster now. “Definitely not,” he says, his head hitting the headboard. “Shit, Simone.”

“You know what,” she says. “Give me just a sec.”

Nick slows down, stops, looks at her. She turns around, pulls open her bottom drawer. On the right side she keeps her swimsuits, socks, shorts - miscellaneous things that don’t really belong anywhere else. She has a vibrator back there, a dildo that she breaks out on occasion, lube and condoms and dental dams, but what she grabs for don’t really sit in that realm.

The first is the ring gag. She hasn’t gotten much use out of it - she’d bought it on a whim but doesn’t care for it herself, and Pat had determined it made his jaw hurt so they’d only broken it out twice. It’s simple, as far as gags go, but should achieve what Simone’s looking for.

The rope is soft nylon, thin enough to be easy to knot but gentle enough that even if Nick tries to struggle, he won’t cut in too badly. She holds the gag hooked in her ring and middle fingers in one hand and the rope wrapped around her other hand, turning back to look at him. 

“I don’t really appreciate how demanding you’re being,” she says. Nick’s stopped touching himself. He’s staring at her, eyes widened. “Can you rein it in?”

He doesn’t say anything, mouth open.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, kneels on the bed and takes his wrists. He’s pliant under her now, all quiet, and she takes a few seconds to tie him carefully to the post directly behind him. Nick tugs on the restraint and looks at her.

“What? Something you wanna add?”

Nick shakes his head. Simone pauses to consider for a minute. “Can you knock - on the post, I mean.” Without saying anything, Nick curls his knuckles and raps one against the wood. “Twice to take off the gag. Three times for both. Okay?”

He nods.

“Open your mouth.”

He does what she asks and it’s almost a relief to have him listening again, almost completely still beneath her. She knows it won’t last but it’s a start. She sets the ring in his mouth, opening his jaw just slightly. His eyes are still wide, and as she snaps the gag at the back of his head, tightens it so it’s just snug enough to stay, he presses his tongue through the ring and lets out a breath.

Nick tries to say something but all that comes out is an unrefined mumble. He tugs at his wrists again and sighs.

“There you go,” Simone murmurs. “I shouldn’t have let you stay here, huh? Would have been easier if I just paid the difference and you stayed at a hotel.”

He makes a noise through the gag. That’s all it is - noise.

Simone pushes off of Nick, eyeing him for a quick moment. His cock is still hard, resting against his thigh. His cheeks are pink, and so is his mouth, stretched with the gag around his face. She sits back, pulls her skirt up her thighs a few inches. Nick’s watching her, so in turn she looks away from him, focusing on the wall next to him. She nudges her underwear aside and strokes a finger along her folds, sighing. She’s always terrible at teasing herself, but she wants this to last.

She presses the tip of her index finger to her clit, holds it there. The sensation thrums and then subsides, so she reaches further again, spreads the arousal gathering wet in her cunt, sliding her fingers more steadily against her clit.

Nick’s starting to whine again, broken sounds from his throat. She glances at him, huffs a laugh. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He closes his eyes, clenches and unclenches his fists. “You probably think I’m thinking about you.” She fingers herself open, the movement easy. She’ll need to take off her underwear soon if she doesn’t want to ruin them. “I’m not.”

Nick jerks his hips. He’s trying to curve towards her, his back arched, his arms pulling at the rope. The knot isn’t intricate but it’s snug enough that he isn’t having any luck. She meets his eyes.

“Pat gives such _fucking_ good head.” And she does think about that, briefly. Pat had gone down on her a couple of weeks ago while she was playing something - she can’t remember now, it had been the PS4 because she remembers the controller rumbling in her hands while he’d pressed his nose to her cunt and sucked bruises into her thighs. He knew her well enough to hit the right spots, the right angles, the right moments. Never too fast, never too much teasing or not enough. “God, and his fingers.”

Pat with his tongue on her clit, flicking against her, curling two fingers inside of her. He didn’t care either way when she pulled his hair but he did seem to like her guiding him closer. She hums as she drags her fingers out of her cunt, grinds the heel of her palm to her clit.

Simone lets out a shaky breath. She opens her eyes - hadn’t realized she’d closed them - and looks at Nick’s cock. Her cunt throbs. He’s leaking now, the tip reddened, his entire body straining. She lets herself enjoy the lines of his muscles, the crevice at his hip bone, his ribs and his bare chest. His nipples are hard, too, and for some reason that’s absolutely delightful to her. 

Nick tries to say her name, or at least she thinks that’s what he’s saying. It’s garbled under the gag. She looks at his face, for the first time in a while, and withdraws her hand.

“Christ, Nick, what happened?”

He makes a sharp, drawn out sound from his throat. His mouth is shiny, but more than that, drool is forming at the corners of his lips, slipping past where the gag presses into his skin. Even as she looks at him, he’s dragging his tongue along the gag, pushing it over and under, fighting against it. He must be tireless. The saliva pools, more noticeably, at the right corner of his mouth.

Simone sits up, moves toward him. Nick’s entire body fidgets, like he’s trying to close the distance, but he can’t. She rubs her thumb on his bottom lip and he groans, pushing his head back and stretching towards her further. She uses her other hand to steady him by the shoulder and pulls his lip down, presses her thumb under his tongue. There isn’t a lot of space but he widens his jaw, makes room. 

Simone resists the shudder that tries to crawl through her.

“You just can’t handle it, can you?” Nick breathes hard through his nose. “You think you’re irresistible, don’t you? Even now I’ll bet you’re thinking about how good you look. Isn’t that embarrassing?”

Another weak, choked sound. He’s pulling hard at the rope but not knocking.

“You remember?” Simone says, looking at him. Nick attempts to swallow and nods twice. A bit of saliva rolls from his jaw to his throat. She waits a moment, hesitates. “Do you think I want your cock, Nick? Do you think I want to touch you?”

Nick blinks hard. His eyes are shining, glazed over. He constricts his throat again, and then once more. She hooks a finger into the ring and pulls. His head jerks forward and he gasps.

“If I touch your cock tonight,” she says, still slowly, with enough pause that if Nick needs her to back off he can let her know, “it won’t be because it’s yours. Not really.” She reaches to stroke her clit again, and the fire in her belly surges back to life. She lets out a soft breath and Nick pants. He’s struggling, squirming like he has nothing left in him but wild, useless energy. She takes both hands and rakes her fingers down his chest, watches thin white lines bloom against his skin.

Nick groans, voice still muffled, and falls limp against the bed. He’s blinking back tears now, his head turned. Her cunt is aching now, her fingers aren’t enough.

She tugs her underwear down off her thighs, tosses them to the end of the bed. Nick’s drooling consistently now, something he can’t help anymore, despite how his throat flutters with half-hearted attempts to swallow.

Simone shuffles a little closer, nudges his thighs apart. She wraps her fingers around the base of Nick’s cock - he twitches in her hand, starts mumbling more nonsense again that she can’t make out. She pulls at his cock and thinks for a few seconds before straddling his hips. She guides him inside of her, one hand holding him, the other spreading herself. His cock head brushes her hole and she sighs, takes a few seconds to rub it across her clit. She sinks down slow, bites her lip as his cock stretches her open, her cunt accommodates.

She wants to say something - tell him that Pat’s cock is just thick enough to fill her up, that his can never do the trick, just a sore substitute. But nothing comes out. She’s too focused on keeping her breathing even. She takes his cock until she’s practically sitting on his lap, then drags herself back up. It’s just the right amount of slick and friction, every nerve inside of her crackling. She presses her palms into his chest to keep him still and Nick must get the message - that, or he’s very desperate and simply too scared she’ll stop if he moves - and stills completely.

She rides him like that, raising her hips and then dropping them hard, until the telltale ache inside of her starts to rise, hot and heavy and hurried in her mind. She fingers her clit, rubs hard circles around it and grinds down on Nick’s cock. It must nearly be painful, she thinks, because he’s so fucking hard, such a solid weight inside of her - perfect, fucking perfect, although she doesn’t admit it - and when she glances at Nick’s face, he’s crying.

Not just tearing up, she realizes. He’s straight crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at her. She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a stuttered groan, his _name_. She doesn’t mean to - it sneaks up on her - but she comes, pulsing and clenching hard around Nick’s cock. His head rolls back and he groans in tandem with her. Simone stays on his cock for a few seconds, rides through the aftershocks until his hardness starts to become uncomfortable. She slides off of him with a shaky breath.

“Still okay?” she finds herself saying, brushing a tear off Nick’s cheek with her thumb. He turns his face away from her but nods. She darts her tongue out to lick her lips and looks back at his cock. “God. Look at you. You’ve completely fallen apart.”

A dry, unhinged sob.

She closes her fist around his cock and settles on her stomach between his legs. She can only fuzzily remember the last time she’d blown one of them - it’d been Pat, and it’d been a while, because they never ask and she never offers and it’s sort of an unspoken agreement. Maybe she’s being merciful, she thinks, touching her tongue to the underside of Nick’s cock. He moans, weak and quiet, and she drags her tongue along the length, experimenting. He twitches in her grip - it’s interesting, that sensation against her tongue.

She kisses the head and then presses her tongue into the slit. He’s salty and unbearably hot on her tongue, but she puts that aside, squeezes his balls and then rolls them in her palm. His hips buck a little and she takes the tip into her mouth. That’s what she always forgets - her cunt can make room, knows how, but her jaw is another thing. How Nick manages it with such ease has suddenly become so much more impressive, as she’s reminded of how simply uncomfortable is to fill her mouth with cock. There’s stuff that’s good about it, too - she loves the warmth, the weight on her tongue. She loves the way he moves and reacts to her tongue, the total control she has. 

She sucks, hollows her cheeks. She glances up at Nick, pushes her hair back so she can make out his face. He’s still crying, and it’s an unexpected but not unpleasant development. She has a vague thought about whether or not she can make him cry harder, if that’s even okay for her to want, and as if to egg her on, her cunt throbs. She swallows another inch, tries sucking a little harder, jacking the inches of Nick’s cock that she won’t fit in her mouth with her hand.

She’s not teasing anymore, she realizes. She’s bobbing her head, sucking him down, and Nick’s dragging his nails along the headboard, choked sobs ripping from his chest. It’s a surprise when he spills into her mouth, but not an unpleasant one. She blinks, swallows hard, pulls off. It’s a little messy, sure, but then she sees Nick, sees that he’s just a quiet heap on the bed, and she moves close to unhook the gag and untie the rope.

“Careful, careful,” she says as she releases his wrists. 

“Simone, Simone, oh, God,” Nick says. His voice is raspy, jagged. 

“Don’t move too fast,” she says.

Nick’s touching her face. 

“Thank you,” he says, and starts to laugh. She looks at him, cocks her head. He’s still laughing. He’s still crying, too, though the tears have slowed down.

“I’m gonna get up,” she says. “I’m gonna grab a washcloth. That okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” He slumps back against the pillow, throws an arm over his eyes. Simone gets out of bed, slow, and glances at him one more time before she slips into the bathroom.

As she’s wringing out the washcloth, she hears Nick laugh again, loud and a little hysterical.

She smiles at her reflection and walks back to her room, eyes him where he lies. The lines on his chest are less prominent but still there. He has tear stains on his cheeks, his eyes are a little swollen, and drool has dried on his jaw and in his hair. She crawls onto the bed and wipes his chin, under his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says as he stares.

“You’re fucking amazing. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” she says, even as her heart stutters to hear the words. 

He laughs, once more, a little more evenly. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”


End file.
